


Broken Wings Can't Fly

by sourirpourmoi



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angels, Fallen Angels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:36:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourirpourmoi/pseuds/sourirpourmoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the SteveTonyFest for arrafrost :)</p>
<p>Anthony Stark had one job. Find the Rogue One and save him. If he couldn't be saved, kill him. <br/>Too bad nobody thought to tell him not to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Wings Can't Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arrafrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrafrost/gifts).



> ARRA JFC. I died trying to do something for you! I arted but they're not finished yet and this is an accompanying drabble. I really hope you like it. (loveyou)

"He was one of the best. You have to find him."

"Yes, sir."

"If he's broken, kill him."

"Yes, sir."

"And Anthony? Don't make me regret this."

"... Yes. Sir."

-

Tony walked through the brisk chill of the night, pausing only to look around him. 

It'd been forty five days since he had been sent to earth and he still couldn't find him. The rogue one.

He wasn't stupid, he wasn't naive. Time was running out, he knew that. It wouldn't be long before he would be called back and would have nothing to show except a slightly tainted faith in his Fathers world.

But he didn't let himself think of that. He wouldn't fail. There was no way he could fail. 

He pushed open the door of the bar he was staying above and nodded to the tender, Clint. A nice guy, decent. Misunderstood in a way that will never be sympathised with. 

"Hey! Tony!" Clint shouted at him, beckoning him closer. Tony resisted the urge to grit his teeth and forced himself to smile at him and his partner, Nat. He sat at the bar ignoring the hungry looks from both the lady on his right and the drunken  man on his left.

"Hello, Clint." He said pleasantly, he liked Clint, he truly did and if there was ever a human that deserved Tony's effort it was this one. Clint offered Tony the spare bedroom the very night he crashed into earth. He had blood streaked on his face and arms, he had been uncoordinated in steps and had looked haunted but Clint had offered him his jacket with an understanding look and told him of the spare room.

"Listen, I need you try one for me-" Tony groaned. Clint was forever attempting to create 'Cocktails', and the atrocities varied in taste and effect on inhibitions. Just the other day Clint forced him to try "Iron Man" a drink fashioned to him personally. It had knocked him out cold for three hours and left him feeling as though he had suffered the worst of heart attacks. 

"Oh dear."

"No, hear me out, I call it... The Rogue." Tony's head snapped up to look the bartender, at his oblivious and somewhat innocent face. He was smirking and moving his eyebrows up and down, and suddenly Tony found he couldn't breathe.

He cleared his throat and offered him what he hoped was a convincing smile.

"Alright, let's try it," He forced out, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. Clint couldn't know. Clint doesn't know. No, Tony had made sure of that. He'd been as careful as possibly could be, keeping his prayers and communications as quiet as possible. Never using his powers.

It was just a coincidence, he told himself.

Tony could see the Stranger on his left turn and give him his full attention out the corner of his eye and Tony swallowed.

"You alright there, bud?" Said a Brooklyn drawl. The voice was deep, hypnotic almost. Familiar. So familiar. 

"Yes-" Tony's words stopped on the tip of his tongue as he turned to the stranger, the owner of his voice. Blonde hair, brown leather jacket, toothy grin. Glowing face.

Their eyes widened simultaneously, a deep blue with his light brown. It-it was him. He'd done it, he'd found him. 

Tony found the Rogue One.

"Nice wings." The Rogue breathed out, his pink lips curving in a surprised and wondrous smile. He was every bit as handsome as the lore had said, every bit as welcoming and bright.

He was the very definition of an angel. 

Tony smiled back, feeling, feeling something weird in his stomach. He felt apprehensive, anxious. But at the same time restless, ecstatic and overjoyed. The mix of emotions did not compliment each other and Tony found himself overwhelmed. And he loved it.

The smile slipped off his face and suddenly he felt sick.

He reached out with a shaking hand and felt the tip of one cold, black and drooping feather.

The Rogue shivered and stared at him with questioning eyes.

"You don't know, do you?" Tony whispered, horrified eyes settling on The Rogues face.

He didn't know he was an angel. He didn't know he had fallen.

"Know what?" He asked, his expression turning guarded. 

"You don't know you're broken." A tear fell from his eye before he had the chance to control himself.

Tony let the feather fall, limp, pathetic to the ground. 


End file.
